


My Silence On His Little Finger

by AlexT



Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-03
Updated: 2016-07-03
Packaged: 2018-07-19 20:34:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7376437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexT/pseuds/AlexT
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryan was in a car crash</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Silence On His Little Finger

Brendon is drumming in the studio aimlessly, cleaning his mind from this week's shit when the call comes.

"Spencer?" He says. When Spencer replies his voice sounds strangled. "Bren?"

"Yeah, what's that?" Brendon prays to God Spencer hasn't taken pills. Of course he trusts Spencer, but it's the only thing that his mind is able to come up with that's as bad as Spencer sounds.

"R-Ryan...he...was in a car crash" Spencer says and with those words Brendon's world shutters.

"What do you mean? He is not dead. He can't be. Right?"

"No." And Brendon doesn't understand. He doesn't understand why Spencer isn't saying anything. Nothing was ever supposed to happen to Ryan. "So? What's with him. He—he's. Is he?" His voice comes out sounding foreign and it's then that he realizes tears are welling in his eyes and it's hard to swallow.

"He is not dead. Well, at least not yet. His state is bad, Brendon."

Brendon tries to blink the tears out of his eyes "Is there anything we can do?" Please, please there has to be.

Spencer sighs "Not really, the only thing we can do is wait."

"Wait for what?" Brendon whispers.

"For him to wake up, Bren." Spencer's voice wavers and Brendon's heart sinks low, low, so heavy and he slips from his stool to the ground, swallowing bitter tears in their wake.

"Where is he?" Brendon asks and Spencer gives him the name of the hospital. Brendon immediately runs to his car and is on his way there. The ride is the longest Brendon's ever taken and he can feel tears wetting his cheeks, even if he's still questioning reality, even if he refuses to believe and completely fails to understand, that Ryan—his Ryan...And Brendon can see Ryan's lanky limbs weak and pale, his eyes empty. Lying on tar black concrete and what was he thinking, that idiot. Then—was he, perhaps? Did he ever think of Brendon, he—Brendon snaps into reality and parks his car. He quickly enters the hospital and runs towards the reception. "There is a patient named Ryan Ross. Where is he?" He snaps impatiently.

The receptionist looks at him with a bored expression. "Are you his family member?"

"No but-"

"In that case I can't help you, could you-"

"No, listen." he interrupts "His father is dead and he haven't seen his mother in decades, I am the closest thing to family he has, so could you kindly tell me where he is?"

The woman takes her eyes off the screen of her computer and measures Brendon up and down. "Aren't you that singer?" she retorts and takes out a notebook," sign this for my daughter and you're allowed to go." She blinks and Brendon wants to throw up. He signs it and she shows him where to go. When he finds the door he takes a deep breath before opening.

Well, shit.

He pushes the door handle down and—there, Ryan, god. He's under the covers, arms neatly laid on top of them, penetrated with multiple needles, a clip on his right index finger, a monitor beeping, counting his artificial breaths that he's taking through the breathing mask on his face, void of worries and emotions, eyes closed. Brendon falls.

 _"God no, no this can't be"_ he whispers to himself as he stares at the man he loves. Brendon stands up slowly and walks to the bed, pulling a chair to sit on it. He carefully lifts one of Ryan's dead-cold hands and squeezes it between his own. "Hello, Ryan" he whispers "It's been so long" he says and kisses the hand. Nothing happens. Tears fall from Brendon's eyes as he watches Ryan's unmoving face and a part of him realizes 'You're about to lose this man, forever.' Ryan is leaving him for good. But then he doesn't think that, doesn't think of the grip of Ryan's hand, firm and warm, as opposed to his now freezing palm. Oxygenated, but not alive in the real sense. Brendon has no idea what to do, but he can't go and his mind doesn't seem to be working and also because in desperate situations we reach for our primary instincts, he kisses Ryan's hand again, squeezes and does what he'd been taught to do when nothing else could help. He prays. He prays to a god he doesn't believe in, he prays to Ryan and he weeps.

Suddenly, he hears his phone buzz. Brendon doesn't want to pick it up, he feels like not paying attention to Ryan would make him pass away.

He lays his head on Ryan's lap "Ryan if you hear me, you probably don't, but if you do, please wake up. I-I need you" That's similar to what he's replayed in his head a thousand times; _'Do you hear me? Hi. Come back, I need you.'_ planning out their potential phone conversation. He needed Ryan. He needs Ryan. And had he called would that change anything? Maybe if—The phone buzzes again, it's Spencer and Brendon ignores him and turns the phone off. Instead, he clutches Ryan's hand and presses his face into Ryan's duvet and lets it dry the tears that can't seem to stop escaping his eyes.

After a while, Brendon cries himself to sleep. In his dream he can see himself at Ryan's funeral. There are few people and he recognizes almost everyone, Spencer is standing next to him. He can even see Brent standing in behind, acting like he cares. Fucker.

Brendon then notices a figure in white. He feels a wave of anger rise up in him. Ryan has never been a man praising tradition, but showing up at his funeral in all white feels like an abomination to Brendon. The person approaches him and Brendon stands dumbstruck staring at the man.

He looks exactly like Brendon and Brendon supposes that's possible in dreams, but _why?_

"What?" He whispers towards the man.

"Surprised?" The man grins.

"But how? Who are you, I mean..." Brendon tries hard to sober up from his sleepy daze.

"Your angel, your soul...an alter ego, if you will."

Brendon wonders if he's as sly and disgusting as this man. "What-Why are you here?" He asks.

The other Brendon grins evilly "I am here to make you an offer. An offer you won't refuse."

"And what are you offering me?" Brendon asks his alter ego, not really sure what he can offer.

"What would you say, if I told you you could prevent this?" He points at the coffin in front of them.

Brendon's knees feel weak. _Please, let me._ "How? Tell me," Brendon demands, suddenly feeling fully awake.

Brendon's other self looks more serious, but maybe even mock serious, his lips pursed, but eyes playful. "You and I," he points at both Brendons,"we've been given a lot in this life. Maybe, even...too much for just one insignificant person, don't you think?"

"I guess so?" Brendon replies not really sure what to think of it.

The other Brendon continues "Would you give up something you have, something that made a really huge difference in your life in order to save him?" He asks.

Brendon, not really thinking, replies, "Anything."

The other Brendon grins _"Give up your voice, then."_

Brendon's racing thoughts quiet down and then, the first one he's able to identify is _'you will never be able to speak again.'_

And he doesn't want to give his voice up, it's his life, it's what Ryan used to love about him, but it hits him then, how his first coherent thought had defined his choice before he could even consider it and then he's nodding.

"You sure? When you decide, you won't be able to change it back."

Brendon doesn't hesitate. "Of course, I am sure."

His alter ego smiles. "Okay, then."


End file.
